


Turbulence

by nice_girls_play



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, Head Injury, Snarky Chapel, Snarky McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nice_girls_play/pseuds/nice_girls_play
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Women of Star Trek Week: Chapel Tuesday. Nurse Chapel is stubborn (and chatty) when injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turbulence

Turbulence was inevitable on board ship. Chapel accepted this better than McCoy most days and held to a personal set of rules honed from years spent in pre-Starfleet science labs in seismically unstable areas. 

1) Don't leave sensitive instruments or specimens out loose.  
2) Secure whatever you're holding.  
3) Grab a table edge (not your lab partner) and hold on. 

Occasionally, the rules failed her. Like the day a Romulan war bird decided to fire on them and the ship tilted abruptly to the side, sending everyone in the lab flying. 

She remembered falling backwards, a burst of stars behind her eyes, then getting to her feet and running to assist the injured staff. She was halfway through stitching Nurse Silva's arm when the CMO arrived.

"Bridge crew?" she asked, not looking up from her laser sutures.

"All clear," he answered. "Chris, you're bleeding."

"I know." She'd felt something warm and wet running down her neck and made an informed assessment -- small gash, most likely from hitting the lab table on the way down; three to four centimeters in length, judging from the neglible amount of blood she found on her hand when she pulled away. She wrapped it and kept going. After ten minutes, it was more sticky than damp. 

"When you're done there, get on the next biobed."

"We have two more injured from the lab." She counted them in her head. Two minor chemical burns -- lab techs who hadn't abided Rules 1 and 2. She'd done a preliminary examination, poured neutralizing solutions over both and told them to wait.

"And you've got a head wound! You'll be lucky if I don't have to shave your hair off."

"Shave my head and I'll tell the captain about your last shore leave."

"Mouthy _and_ defensive. Because those aren't the signs of a concussion. Up you go." He shined a light in both of her eyes, pursed his lips as she blinked. "Pupil reaction normal. Any dizziness?"

"Just when I fell."

"How about now?"

Now that he'd forced her to sit still... 

"More headache than dizziness." 

She heard more than felt the hiss of the hypospray hit her neck. A cup of something warm was shoved into her hands a moment later. She smiled as the scent of coffee hit her nostrils.

"Chin down."

"Don't shave my head."

"Sit still and I won't have to," he said, turning on the laser trimmers. "At best, you'll need an undercut to make it even."

"I've had one of those," she said. "It was pink."

"Pink?" he asked, not missing a stroke with the trimmers.

"Bubblegum pink with silver and gold tips, I was fifteen," she said, abruptly realizing what she'd just told him. "Damn it, Leonard, I think I've got a concussion."

"I know! This is going to be a fun afternoon."


End file.
